Quotes About Touch

He felt the touch of cool air wafted out from the interior of the church—the feeble breath of a dying building.

Rhett glanced over his shoulder as if there had been a sound. His eyes met hers, and surprise stiffened his lithe body. For a long immeasurable moment the two of them looked at each other while the space between them widened. Then blandness smoothed Rhett's face as he touched two fingers to his hat brim in salute. Scarlett lifted her hand.

Moral wounds have this peculiarity,—they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.

She placed a hand over her heart. "I feel the love. It's there when I glance at you, when you smile at me, when you touch me." She patted her chest. "I can feel it each and every time, and sometimes it's just there for no particular reason at all.

Real elation is when you feel you could touch a star without standing on tiptoe.

I love hugging. I wish I was an octopus, so I could hug ten people at a time.

Where a man feels pain he lays his hand.

Making copy come alive How do you write vividly? You present your story in terms of things that can be verified by sensory perception. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch—these are the common denominators of human experience; these are the evidence that men believe.

Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.

There is a primal reassurance in being touched, in knowing that someone else, someone close to you, wants to be touching you. There is a bone-deep security that goes with the brush of a human hand, a silent, reflex-level affirmation that someone is near, that someone cares.

There is a wonder in reading Braille that the sighted will never know: to touch words and have them touch you back.

Words--Midnight coined and daily spent. . .writer of the dream. --Jim Ross Author, Rays: Wherever They Touch

Mom has the Touch. She knows what flowers go with what occasions, what hors d'oeuvres work with what people. She believes passionately in the power of food to heal, restore, and stimulate relationships, and she has built a following of loyal customers who really hope she's right. If she's wrong, says Sonia, no one wants to know.

The worst thing yet the best that can happen to you is a soul touch!!!!

While we touch on both of these, our focus is on how we can strengthen our commitment and capacity to act, so that we can best play our part, whatever that may be, in the healing of our world.

But then he touched the flowers With the dry tips of his fingers. "Tell me how men kiss you. Tell me how you kiss.

Es nesapratu šo v?rieti, kurš sevi iegrožoja un apspieda j?tas. Neko neizr?d?t aiz bail?m sajusties v?jam, nekad neesmu sp?jusi to saprast. Man?s m?j?s cilv?ki pieskaras viens otram un sask?pst?s t?pat k? elpo.

But he had held her hand, he had looked into her face in the dark hall, and a strange ecstatic entrancement had come over her, as though she would like to stand there forever, just feeling her hand in his. The extraordinary comfort that filled her heart because of that contact with another human being! She knew that she must feel it again, that, like a drug-taker, she would never be satisfied until she had repeated that unique and trance-like sensation.

That for the rest of her life she'd long to hold that hand one more time, and no matter how many other hands she held, she would never find one as warm and soft.

Threezed seemed to sense her mood. "Don't feel bad that you never got indentured." He touched her arm for a few seconds. "Nobody wants that. Plus, I'm sure you've been fucked over in lots of other ways." It was one of the nicest things a human outside her family had ever said to her.

He gently kissed that scar and felt something changing inside him - just a flutter of change, there and gone, but leaving its mark.

If she didn't heal emotionally, if she could never endure a man's touch… He wasn't the key that could unlock that final door. There was much he could do, but not that. He wasn't the key. Daemon Sadi was.

His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.

When they made love Geryon liked to touch in slow succession each of the bones of Herakles' back as it arched away from him into who knows what dark dream of its own, running both hands all the way down from the base of the neck to the end of the spine which he can cause to shiver like a root in the rain.